


Apple of My Eye

by KittyHowell



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempted Rape, Aziraphale is referred to as Francis and Aziraphale, Crowley has a vulva, Crowley is referred to as Crowley and Nanny, Crowley is referred to as she/her, F/M, Nanny and Francis story, Other, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harrassment, They’re in love and they both know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyHowell/pseuds/KittyHowell
Summary: Nanny and Francis as they try to raise and influence Warlock while failing to ignore their feelings for each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 153





	Apple of My Eye

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Please keep in mind the warnings for this story.

**2012**

“Hell wants me to personally watch over the antichrist now. I can’t send any more agents.” 

“What are you planning to do?” 

“Oh, I’ve stirred the pot over there. Affairs, thievery, general demoness. They’ll be needing new staff. So far it looks like they need a new gardener and a nanny.”

“Perhaps I should come with you. I can go undercover as well, so as not to tip the scales in Hell’s favor. A nanny...well, they would certainly spend a lot of time with Warlock, probably have the most access.” 

“I suppose you’ll want the nanny position, then?” 

“Oh, goodness, no! What if he bites me?”

…

The first thing anyone noticed about Nanny Antonia Ashtoreth was her fashion sense. She was adorned in all black besides her fiery red hair and the temptation red-colored lipstick. She also always wore her sunglasses, indoors or out, stating sensitivity to light as the reason when questioned. The second thing anyone noticed was her unusual way with children. Still, no one else had applied for the position, her resume was perfect, and Warlock took to her rather well from the very beginning. Mrs. Dowling could not have asked for more with her and she had asked for a lot. 

Harriet Dowling had found that she was not a natural mother. She hadn’t even been sure she wanted children to begin with but Thaddeus had insisted in order to keep the bloodline going and soon enough, she had been expecting. He wanted a boy, naturally, in order to keep the last name going as well. Harriet secretly hoped Warlock would be gay, just to spite her husband. 

The infant years had been easier. No one had prepared her for that. Everyone told her how hard and scary the first year was. She prepared for all the diapers and the late night interruptions. She prepared for them alone. Thaddeus, the one who had wanted the child to begin with, was always off with the President or another government official. When he was home, he was distant with Warlock, stating he would be more fatherly when the boy could remember him. That it hadn’t mattered then with the boy so young. 

The first year had passed by in a blur and Harriet had expected it to get easier but found it only grew harder. Now Warlock was four years old and not even potty trained. She had found herself on whits end every day. Warlock was adventurous and rambunctious and overall hard to handle. Harriet found herself either too soft with him or too hard, though those comments came from the gallery of hired help who witnessed her struggles and talked about her behind her back.

She felt like she was going insane and had insisted on a nanny until his tutoring was to start. Thaddeus had agreed if only to shut his wife up and give him some peace. Nanny Ashtoreth, or Nanny as she preferred to be called, was an absolute dream. She took to the work right away, learned the appropriate names of the other staff, and picked up on the security measures instantaneously. Almost as if she already knew them. 

Thaddeus was away, of course, when Nanny started. Harriet didn’t think she’d slept as much as she was currently for years. She had only been there three days before the new gardener had started and already had Warlock working on a routine. 

The gardener's appearance left much to be desired. Harriet may have felt disappointed if not for the various eye candy scattered around the estate with guns. He was an older gentleman, probably around 50, with buck teeth and mutton chops. His clothes were basically burlap bags. 

“Hello, my name is Brother Francis. And you are Mrs…?” He had wasted no time introducing himself to Nanny after being hired basically right on the spot. Again, no one else had applied for the job and Harriet had not honestly cared who pruned the roses as long as they could do it properly. 

Harriet had almost laughed. It almost appeared as if the shorter man was interested in Nanny, what with the way he looked at her but she was far out of his league. While older, probably the same age as the gardener, Nanny was slim and Harriet thought, a little bit foxy. This was why it came as such a surprise when Nanny took his outstretched hand and smiled. 

“Miss. Ashtoreth. I am the nanny. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is mine,” the older man said and kissed the back of her hand lightly before letting it go. Harriet was too stunned to notice the blush creeping on either of their faces. She left Nanny with Warlock while she took Francis around the grounds. 

“I’m going to assume you can handle all of this,” the woman of the estate said, though she honestly hadn’t cared much. His appearance had woken her up from a lovely dream she could barely remember. She hoped to go back to sleep soon. “It’s a lot of work for one man. My husband wanted us to use a service this time since our last gardener quit after having stolen my mother’s pearl earrings.”

At this, Francis side-eyed the house where Nanny still was. Crowley had told him how he managed to make these openings but he was unsure of the outcome of those who had been fired, other than they no longer had their jobs. He stifled a sigh. Sacrifices had to be made to save the world. “It will be no problem at all, ma’am, none at all. Leave it all to me.” 

Harriet noticed the difference in how he regarded her to how he had spoken to Nanny. She almost told him relations between staff were forbidden, minus the married butler and maid they had-but they had been married long before they were hired-but instead pressed her lips together in a thin line. Certainly, there was no way Nanny would be interested and she didn’t wish to embarrass him. Instead, she smiled and lead him to the small gardener's cottage in the back. 

It was very cozy but big enough for a small family. It had two bedrooms, a decent kitchenette and bathroom, and a very welcome looking couch in the common room area. It was completely decorated in varying shades of blue, grey, and green. Not to his taste but again, sacrifices to be made. 

“Oh, it’s very lovely,” he told her upon looking around. She seemed pleased that he liked it, but he knew that was far from the case. He felt lucky compared to Nanny who had called him just two days before to scream into the phone about the horrid decorating style to the one bedroom with a small bathroom so conveniently placed right next to Warlock’s room. “Thank you very much, ma’am.” 

She left him then to get settled. He looked around the cottage again, put on a pot of tea, and stared out the window at the large estate and the lush garden that was now his responsibility to take care of. Sure, he could always miracle the plant life healthy and beautiful. He could ask Nanny as well, if necessary. Still, he would have to pretend every day to leave the cottage and work around the yard for hours on end. 

He didn’t ever sleep but at that moment felt like taking a nap. 

…

That night, the two met at the backyard patio. He was pretending to fuss over the flower beds there, while Nanny had come out for some peace after getting Warlock to sleep. Still dressed in her day uniform, she lowered herself onto one of the lawn chairs, a glass of wine in her hand and mumbled lowly, “This is going to be harder than I thought.” 

“You’re telling me,” Aziraphale muttered back, obviously a little frazzled. “Crowley, I don’t even know what kind of flowers _ these _ are. How am I supposed to do this?” 

Crowley glanced over casually, and because a guard walked over and past the door behind them said, “Those are lovely begonias. Such a pretty color.” 

The other nodded in understanding and thanks. “Yes, I think they are rather pretty.” 

Crowley looked around as casually as she could to make sure they were alone again. Some distance away inside, she could see several of the men of the house standing around while glancing at her. They were too far to hear anything, though, so she brushed it off and turned back to her companion. “You have the easy part here, trust me. You know the boy isn’t potty trained yet? His mother hadn’t even started to try.” 

“Are you telling me you’ve been changing diapers, my dear?” At the pointed look she gave, he shuddered. “You’re right. You have it far worse. I’ll figure this out-” he motioned around them, “-but what are you going to do? It sounds like poor Warlock needs more raising than we originally thought. Isn’t it unusual for four-year-olds not to be able to use the bathroom by themselves?” 

The angel may or may not have read a couple of parenting books over the last few weeks in order to prepare. He would consider himself no expert but still, he felt like four was too old to be wearing diapers unless something was developmentally wrong. He didn’t think Warlock had those problems. In fact, from what he saw, he thought the young boy was rather smart. 

The redhead only hummed in response, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t started yet, just to let you know. No true demonic influence, I mean. Or the potty training either. I wanted to get him on a schedule first so the little brat didn’t kill me.” 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest the name but stopped himself at the last minute. They were talking about the antichrist, after all. “That’s wonderful, my dear. We can both start tomorrow if you are agreeable?” 

Crowley only grunted in response before taking a long sip of wine. She was feeling rather drained and wanted to sleep for the next week. Looking at her watch, she knew she would only get to for about seven hours before the kid was up for breakfast. She had known she would be influencing the antichrist, she just didn’t realize just how much raising she would be doing along the way. Since starting, Harriet had not lifted a single finger, not even to play with her son when he asked. Thaddeus hadn’t even called. Neglectful human parents were probably a plus in Hell’s favor but it was killing her. She opened her mouth to let Aziraphale know when she saw him looking past her and into the house. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw two of the guards lurking around with one of the drivers and one of the cooks. They were all staring while pretending not to. She scoffed, draining the glass in one go. 

“Why are they staring at you like that?” 

“Forget it, angel,” Crowley grumbled, standing up from her spot. “It would be suspicious if we both left at the same time. I’ll go first. You can leave whenever after I’m gone.”

Aziraphale gave a short nod. He pretended to tend to the beds more while keeping a watchful eye on Crowley as she walked past the leering men. Because she turned the corner, he did not see her dash up the stairs and most certainly was out of sight to see her having locked her bedroom door behind her. 

He waited another minute or two and then slowly made his way back to his cottage. He allowed the night air to fill his lungs and hoped it would help clear his head. To go from seeing each other only once in a while to every day was going to be something he’d have to get used to. He used the distance between them to help tamper his feelings for the demon and while he was so looking forward to the next couple of years being so close, he was beyond terrified of what may come of it.

…

A week later, Warlock was running around the kitchen with a pair of gardening shears in his hand he undoubtedly stole from the supplies Francis was currently lunging around. Nanny had not encouraged this but the child was four and some things, especially dangerous things, seemed quite fun until they’re told otherwise. She was keeping a careful eye out. She very well could not be caught allowing such behavior to take place but also because accidentally letting the antichrist kill himself with shears would most probably earn him a spa day with a holy water soak. 

She would miracle him to safety if necessary. At least  _ that  _ she was able to miracle...

“One fine day in the middle of the night! Two dead boys got up to fight!” 

Nanny was responsible for the poem. 

“Back to back they faced each oter! Drew their swwods and shot each other!” 

It was a rather harmless way to start, not that she was trying to be harmless. Not really. Just easing into things, as they say. She didn’t want the end of the world to come. She had talked the other into this scheme as it was but she still had a job to do and damn it she would do it right. She trusted Francis to do his job just as well. 

“One was bind and the oter couldn’t see! They choose a dummy for a refreee!” 

It was really a sight to watch the four-year-old son of Satan running around a kitchen island with shears. Nanny took out her phone and took a quick video. The other demons might not enjoy it but it was proof of  _ something _ . 

“A bind man went to see fair play! A dumb man went to shout HOORAY!” 

Warlock’s behavior gathered the attention of many of the staff but Nanny merely waved a dismissive hand and allowed them to be distracted by something else for the moment. 

“A parawyed donkey passing by! Kicked the bind man in the eye!” 

The antichrist slowed down now, laughing maniacally as he watched Nanny out of the corner of his eye. She knew by the side look he was giving her that he knew deep down he was doing something wrong. He was testing her, seeing just how far she would let him go. That was good, really. So young and still able to use common sense or perhaps the Dowlings had taught him something. Either way, it was a point in favor of Heaven. 

“Knocked him through a nine itch wall! In a dry ditch that droned them all!” 

Warlock stayed on the opposite side of the island, moving from one foot to the other over and over, laughing. Now he was tempting Nanny to chase him! She grinned at him, pretended to move towards him and he was off again, still holding the shears. 

“A death policeman heard the noise! And came to arrest the two dead boys!” 

Nanny could see Francis coming now, rushing through the yard and up towards the estate. She was surprised it took him so long as it was. The poor man was probably kicking himself for leaving his tools lying around. Even if Warlock had been a normal child, it would have been unacceptable. 

“F you don’t beweave the story true! Ask the bind man! He saw it TOO!” The final words of the poem were laced with giggles as Francis scooped the boy up off the ground and placed him on the kitchen island. Gently, the shears were removed from his hands and miraculously disappeared, probably back to the gardening shed. 

“Oh, my dear boy, whatever were you doing?” Brother Francis’ voice was soft with concern. 

Warlock did not take any notice, too busy giggling. “I was dancing to the poem Nanny taught me!” 

“Dancing is wonderful, young Warlock, but please no more with my supplies or any other sharp objects. Nanny and I were concerned for you. You could have gotten hurt.” 

Warlock did not question that Nanny had watched him do it. He did not question how he could have gotten hurt. “I’m sowy Francis. Did you hear the poem Nanny taught me?” 

He nodded. “It was wonderfully said. Would you like me to teach you another poem about a fun game to play?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“Demand, Warlock. Do not request,” Nanny cut in, grinning.

“Now,” Warlock then demanded, turning to Nanny for approval. “Like that?” 

“Just like that.” 

Francis rolled his eyes, then helped set Warlock down onto the floor. “Alright, it’s called Hug O’ War and it goes like this: 

_ “I will not play at tug o' war. _

_ I'd rather play at hug o' war, _

_ Where everyone hugs _

_ Instead of tugs, _

_ Where everyone giggles _

_ And rolls on the rug, _

_ Where everyone kisses, _

_ And everyone grins, _

_ And everyone cuddles, _

_ And everyone wins.” _

The young man looked to consider this, then threw his arms around Francis’ legs to give him a hug. He then rushed to Nanny to did the same. “Will you teach me it?”

Francis hummed contently with a nod. He glanced at Nanny for permission, as the last thing he wanted was to disrupt their schedule. When Nanny only shrugged in response, he took little Warlock’s hand and led him outside to admire the flowers and retell him the poem until he learned it. Nanny not far behind. 

…

Aziraphale told her that the parenting books he’d read had told him potty training generally took three to six months, depending. It could take more or less time for some children but that was the standard. Nanny was currently on month three working with Warlock and they’d had little success. 

His parents had been no help at all. If it did not involve a sport in some way, Thaddeus wasn’t interested. Harriet tried but grew easily frustrated whenever Warlock made a mistake and would often yell if he had an accident. Nanny thought his adoptive parents were demonic influence enough but it wasn’t like she could tell Hell that and call it a day so she worked with him the best she could in getting him comfortable using the potty. 

“Okay, master Warlock,” Nanny smiled from her spot on the floor, her legs tucked under her. “We’re going to use the potty now. Like a big boy. How are you ever going to rule this Earth and kill your enemies if you can’t use the bathroom?” 

The young boy looked from Nanny to the toilet hesitantly. At first, she had tried a smaller training potty that made flushing noises in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable but Warlock only threw fits over it and ran away. After an offhand comment from the angel “maybe he’s uncomfortable on that little thing. Look at his legs”, she had tossed the thing out and got him a stepping stool and an Invader Zim designed toilet seat. 

“I’ll show you what to do. Here.” Standing, she stood on the stool and motioned, rather lamely, to the toilet. “You aim for in there. Just relax.” 

Warlock stepped up when she stepped down, pushing down his shorts and training diaper. He almost lost his footing but caught himself on Nanny’s long skirt. He looked up at her uncertainty and then when nothing immediately happened, he tried to step down, whining. He was just about to hightail it out of there when Francis came around the corner, keeping his eyes up at Nanny and holding a box of Cheerios in his hands. Modesty was important and Warlock deserved his privacy as much as anyone else. 

“Are you eating their cereal?”

The gardener blushed, “No.” He’d thought about it, though. Working in the sun all day made him peckish. “I’ve an idea, if you don’t mind, Nanny?” 

Nanny waved her hand and stepped back. Warlock hid behind her as Francis took a handful of Cheerios and put them in the toilet. He miracled a bottle filled with yellow liquid out of the young boy’s sight and then beckoned him closer. He squirted the liquid out and onto the cereal in the toilet. “It’s a game, young Warlock.” 

Getting the idea, Warlock stepped back onto the stool and after a moment, started to pee into the toilet, laughing. Francis grinned, looking up at Nanny. She was frowning at him, pointedly looking at the bottle of yellow liquid in his hand. Blushing again, Francis shrugged. “It’s lemonade. I wanted it to be authentic.” 

Nanny stifled a laugh by clearing her throat and said, “That’s right, master Warlock. Drown your enemies.” 

Warlock turned to her, spraying urine all over the floor and on Nanny’s skirt. He apologized, stepping down from the stool and coming to her. “No harm done. It was an accident. I’m very proud of you. Now, wash up and go play.” 

Warlock pulled up his pants, washed his hands and then ran off, laughing. A second later they heard the TV being turned on. 

“Well, didn’t realize that was how you liked it.” The two celestial beings turned to look at one of the guards walking up to the bathroom. He leaned against the framing of the door. “I can help with that.”

Nanny sneered. “That’s a horrid thing to say.” 

Francis was lost. Truly, he wasn’t sure what the young guard was talking about but whatever it was, it had upset Nanny. That upset him. No matter the form the demon took, he was drawn to them. He supposed that would happen when one was so deeply in love with someone. Just seeing the pinched look on Nanny’s face made him unreasonably angry. “You should keep walking.” 

Both the guard and Nanny turned to him. The young man eyed the bottle in his hands and snickered. “Maybe you’ve got it covered. See you around,  _ Nanny _ .” 

As soon as he was out of sight, she miracled the mess away and walked off. She hoped the angel wouldn’t ask. Thankfully, when she turned back around he was gone.

…

Francis had made a comment about the flower beds looking a little sad so Nanny decided to take Warlock outside to admire the flowers while she inspected them. She’d been yelling at her plants since the ’70s and under her wrath, they had grown extremely beautiful and lush. She didn’t have as much experience with flowers but certainly had more than enough in the last three decades to take care of some roses and begonias. 

So not to alert anyone else, particularly Master Warlock, she knelt beside each flower bed, rose bush, and potted plant and whispered harsh threats to them. Francis was doing a good job overall, they were  _ alive  _ and Nanny could tell he was not using miracles to keep them that way. There was always a certain something left after a miracle when used to grow flowers or make food. The humans wouldn’t notice it, exactly, but they would know something was off. Nanny would have been able to tell. Things were always better when done the human way. 

“You will grow better,” she sneered into one of the flower beds under the pretense of leaning into it to smell in the fragrant scent. She felt it begin to shake against her nose. “You will be the most beautiful of them all. My angel is taking care of you and if you disappoint him I will cut you down with a chainsaw.” 

The garden looked quite windy despite the lack of breeze when Nanny was done. She’d kept one ear on Warlock the whole time as he ran around the open area and rolled around in the grass. She had felt the presence of Francis some time ago and was not at all surprised to see that the gardener had managed to calm the wrecking ball down. They were sitting together off to the side, both their hands deep in rich soil as the older gentlemen taught him how to treat and care for nature. 

Nanny rolled her eyes, though there was no heat behind it. She turned towards the line of flowers she’d just threatened and with one more glare, stalked her way over to the two. She took her time knowing full well that Francis did not get the time to influence as she did. While she had all day to sneak in small influences of the underworld, Francis had stolen moments when no one else was around. 

“-and with care, love, and a little bit of attention, the flowers in this pot will grow. The hard work you put in will shine and everyone who looks at it will be able to tell.” 

Warlock smiled at Francis and then patted down the rest of the soul in the plant. He watered it carefully and even Nanny could see that he looked very proud of himself. Francis picked up the plant. He looked around the garden and upon finding the perfect spot, he motioned for Warlock to follow him. The three made their way over to a small area under Warlock’s bedroom window where miraculously, he found a spot to fit the pot perfectly. 

“Here you go, Warlock. This is yours now to take care of. If you need help, all ye need to do is ask. I’ll be around.” 

The young boy looked up at Nanny, seeking approval. She nodded her head and he beamed before thanking Francis with a hug and running off to roll around in the grass once more. 

“Thank you,” Francis said quietly, “for the help with the garden.” 

“It needed it,” Nanny said, then upon seeing the crestfallen look on his face and because she loved him, “you’re doing a good job, though.” 

And because he loved her, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to the pulse point on her wrist before all but rushing back to the cottage. 

…

Aziraphale met Crowley on the top of a bus, as per usual. The blond skimmed over an article about the record-breaking ‘perfect’ weather Tadfield once again had this past year while he waited for the redhead. Aziraphale smiled as his counterpart sat down in the seat behind him. Crowley still oozed with femininity, from the still long locks to the more flowy style jacket she had chosen for their secret meeting but the lack of makeup and appearance of her regular snakeskin shoes gave him a reminder of the Crowley he was so very much used to. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the Nanny disguise. He liked anything Crowley did, with the hair or clothes. Sometimes he just missed looking at the version he’d grown so attached to over the years. He wondered if Crowley felt the same. 

“Boy seems perfectly normal.”

“Yes, I agree,” the blonde responded after a moment. There wasn’t much point to them meeting like this, in secret, to discuss such things. They both lived on the estate and saw Warlock regularly. It excited Aziraphale that they did more because they wanted to than anything else. 

“Well, if there’s nothing special to report...Can I take you to lunch, angel?” 

“Oh, my dear, I would never say no to that.” 

He did not mean the food. 

…

Nanny finished reading the original Brother’s Grimm version of what had become Cinderella and set the book down on his nightstand. Warlock hadn’t even blinked at the mention of cutting off parts of the stepsisters' feet or pecking out of eyes. She thought it was a shame, really. Seeing other people’s reactions were the best part. 

“Bedtime now, dear. You’ll need to sleep to conquer the world one day.” 

“Can I have a lullaby?” 

“Sure, master Warlock,” Nanny started but Warlock waved his hand to stop her. “I like your songs Nanny but I want Brother Francis to sing to me tonight.” 

“Are you sure, darling?” 

Warlock nodded. “Well, alright. Let me get him.” 

Nanny walked to the window and waved the gardener, who was still moseying around the garden, inside. It had not been the first time she’d done this but certainly the first time she had done it for this. 

Brother Francis appeared moments later, light on his feet and as quiet as a mouse. He was not technically supposed to be in the house as he had no real reason to be. The lady of the estate had no idea despite the many times they were almost caught. “How can I be of service?” 

“The master has requested a lullaby from you.”

Eyebrow raised, Francis sat down in the chair next to his bed. “I don’t think I know any lullabies. Hm, oh, you know I do know one song that you might like.” 

_ “ You're my Honeybunch, Sugarplum _

_ Pumpy-umpy-umpkin, You're my Sweetie Pie _

_ You're my Cuppycake, Gumdrop _

_ Snoogums-Boogums, You're the Apple of my Eye _

_ And I love you so and I want you to know _

_ That I'll always be right here _

_ And I love to sing sweet songs to you _

_ Because you are so dear” _

It was a bit strange to speak of love and cute baby names to the antichrist but the young boy had smiled during the song and quickly fell asleep. He figured the boy feeling happy and loved was a win for his side so he wouldn’t complain about it. 

The two snuck out of the room together. They paused in the hallway but neither said anything. Eventually, they turned and went their separate ways. 

…

“I would love to fuck that ass of hers,” the young guard from before spoke lowly to the other. “Look at her. All done up that way. She must be asking for it.” 

The other guard agreed, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at Nanny leaning down to play with Warlock. “I still can’t believe you haven’t yet.” 

The first one shrugged. “Haven’t had the opportunity but I’ll find one.”

Nanny could hear them mumbling to each other from across the room but said nothing so as not to alert Warlock. She shuddered at the thought and wanted to wrap five more layers around her. This was why she never bothered to present as a woman anymore. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to on occasion. She preferred her male form better if she were being honest but there was power in her female form that she’d always enjoyed. It was just too much trouble to deal with when she presented as a female and this was always the number one problem. 

“Nanny!” Warlock cut through her thoughts, “I have to pee.” 

“Okay, darling, go right along, then.” And then to stop any opportunity, she followed him into the bathroom. He did not need her help anymore but Francis was not there to guide this conversation so she would have to do. 

No one had to know. 

“Master Warlock,” she started when he was finished. She sat on the floor on her knees so she would be eye level with him. “I want to talk to you about personal space and privacy.” 

“What’s rivisee?” 

“It basically means leaving people alone or being left alone when it’s appropriate or when someone wants.” She told him, keeping one eye on the door. She could still hear the low murmurs of the men in the hall. “And there are certain parts of the body-” she pointed to them on herself and then on him, “-that are private. No one should touch you there without your consent. The only people who should even want to are your parents to help you if you need, and perhaps a doctor on rare occasions and that is only in the company of your parents, okay?”

“What about you, Nanny?” 

She smiled at him. “No, not me, master Warlock. You’re a big boy now. You wipe and dress yourself. I have no reason to be around there now. Do you understand?” 

Soon he would not need her at all. Soon he would have tutors to help with him. She wondered if he would remember her if he ever came into his powers. If he would remember her as his nanny who took care of him, instead of another demon. She wondered if this talk would get her in trouble or not. 

“Yes, I understan.” 

“Good,” she hugged him, as she so often did. “Now run along and play with matches, my hellspawn.” 

She stood as he ran off and pointedly walked in the opposite direction of the others, refusing to let her chin drop. 

…

Brother Francis always had Wednesdays off. Every Wednesday, Harriet had friends over in the garden to day drink and one of her friends had made a comment about how uncomfortable Francis made her feel, despite never having spoken to him before. He was asked to leave the garden and do as he pleased elsewhere.

Because his mother would be drinking in the middle of the day, Nanny was also expected to leave the estate with Warlock in toe. The two ended up taking the young antichrist to the park on those days together. They would sit on a bench, a guard somewhere behind them watching over the young master. Warlock would run around with the other kids and play for hours with them. Nanny, or sometimes Francis, would carry him back when he tuckered himself out. 

The two did not discuss business there. They could but neither ever mentioned it, as that would take away from their monthly outings they’d grown so accustomed to. Instead, they would quietly just enjoy each other’s company while they watched the son of Satan play tag. 

“Did I tell you I like that shade on you?” 

Nanny turned her head slightly to look at Francis, who was looking at Warlock. “Hm?” 

“That shade of lipstick,” he clarified, still not looking at her. “It looks great on you.” 

She opened her mouth to speak when she saw Francis’ eyes widen. He stood with great speed and when Nanny turned her head to look for Warlock, panicked, she saw an older boy shoved him to the ground harshly. The guard did not move, as it was not his business to deal with playground bullies but both Nanny and Francis hurried to his side. 

Seething angry, Nanny helped Warlock to his feet, checked for injuries and then opened her mouth to rant.

Francis cut her off. “Warlock, when someone does that to you, you fight back. Don’t take to bullying. If someone shoves you down, you have the right to stand up for yourself.” 

Stunned, Nanny watched Warlock agree and hug Francis before running off to shove the older boy to the ground. The bullies' mother glared at them but Francis only smiled at her with a little wave. He turned to Nanny and shrugged. 

They went back to the bench, which miraculously became free again as they did. They sat quietly together for some time, watching Warlock and not speaking. Finally, Nanny reached over and took Francis’ hand in hers. He jumped but did not move away. 

...

“Rather interesting choice in attire, angel,” Crowley muttered as they strode across the museum floor. She circled around the blond, as she often did, to keep an eye out for trouble. 

Aziraphale had changed into normal clothing but had not removed the miracle of his teeth and sideburns. Brother Francis looked almost dashing in the tartan bow tie, though Crowley would never admit it out loud. 

“You should talk,” the blond said back, smiling. Crowley herself was still in full Nanny attire, makeup and bag included. 

Crowley shrugged in response. “I like the shoes.” 

They spent several minutes walking around and admiring the work of the many exhibits currently on display. By now, they had dropped the pretense of meeting to discuss Warlock. They both saw him every day. He was a strange child, certainly, but more human than either of their own celestial stock. They still had no idea whose influence was more prominent but there was little to do at this point. 

“Oh, look at this,” Crowley said before veering off into the next room. There was a private collector’s collection on display. Several paintings of demons and angels, statues, and sculptures. There was a painting, a centerpiece of the collection, of an angel and a demon fighting over an apple in what appeared to be a garden. “Looks nothing like us…” 

Aziraphale nodded, chuckling, as the two moved around the room with the other admirers. They discussed each piece in length, almost forgetting themselves in the process. 

“Oh, that one is rather crude.” 

“I think they’re wrestling.” 

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” 

Crowley shook with laughter but nodded her head. It did look as if the two beings were doing something much more fun than wrestling. It did not help that both were naked, though things of this nature usually were. 

“Well...isn’t this interesting?” 

Startled, the two turned to see Kelly, one of the Dowlings cooks, and the same young guard who’d made the urine comments from before. Nanny had been successfully avoiding him and the others rather well. Hell was not especially happy with it but he always came up with an excuse when he had to report to them. 

The guard looked annoyed at the two of them together but Kelly looked absolutely thrilled. “Are you two on a date?” 

Aziraphale blushed, “Oh, well…” 

The guard pulled Kelly’s arm as she giggled into her hand. “Come on, babe. Leave them alone.” 

Kelly agreed silently, waving goodbye and walking off. The guard lingered a moment, looked Nanny up and down, and smirked. “Guess you’re not so against it, after all.” He then walked off to catch up with Kelly, who was now looking at the centerpiece painting in the middle of the room. 

Crowley did not let the comment get to her. She was a demon and the guard was a mere mortal. Hell could go fuck themselves for all she cared at this point. She could feel Aziraphale looking at her, eyes practically burning holes into her skin with unasked questions. She ignored it and moved onto the next piece in the collection. 

“Crowley…” 

“Drop it, angel.” 

“Not this time, my dear.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please tell me what’s going on?” 

Swallowing hard, Crowley walked off. It took a moment for Aziraphale to realize she wanted him to follow and not that Crowley was leaving him behind. In the blink of an eye, the Nanny clothes were gone and replaced with more normal attire. Aziraphale did the same for his face, if only because it felt strange otherwise. 

“I don’t know how to put it.” 

“How about you just say it, then?” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “He wants to rape me.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened to an almost hilarious point. If they had been talking about anything else, Crowley might have laughed and taken a picture. “I beg your pardon?” 

She tried to shrug it off. “I’m a demon, angel. I don’t always mean to do it but sometimes my vessels can emit certain hormones that affect the mortals in terrible ways. They affect the ones that are already tainted, would probably do it without the temptation, but usually faster. A couple of the staff are...anyway, he’s the worst.” 

Aziraphale took a moment to recover. “Why don’t you just miracle their attention away?” 

“I can’t,” she tapped the ground twice with her foot, “Hell doesn’t want me to interfere. They want it to happen.” 

Aziraphale saw red, hands clenched into fists at his side. His manicured hands dug marks into the skin that would bleed. “They just expect you to…?” 

“They  _ expect _ me to like it,” she hissed back, “I am a  _ demon _ , after all…” Thankfully, Azirapjale did not ask her if she would, in fact, enjoy it. She thought her heart would break if he did. “They want it to happen in front of Warlock, to influence him…” She couldn’t finish the thought. It made her feel ill. 

Aziraphale remained dangerously quiet. Finally, he reached forward and gently took Crowley’s arm, as if he expected the demon to lead him somewhere. “No matter, darling,” he muttered as they continued down the road. Crowley couldn’t see his face but if she had she would have seen the menacing look there and maybe she would have said something. “I will take care of them.” 

…

It’s easy to fall into a routine when your entire world revolves around a child. Warlock truly was turning out to be a perfectly normal human boy, with perhaps some quirks that could only be attributed to the time spent with his nanny and the estate gardener. There were not many five-year-old boys in the world who could sing the lyrics to every Queen song and recite poetry by heart. 

Children crave structure and the antichrist was no different. Nanny spent her days getting up at the ass crack of dawn with the young child and helping him get ready for the day before wandering downstairs for something to eat. It was a flaw in human design. As children, humans would wake up naturally and ready to start the day when they generally had nowhere to go. As they got older and had more need to get up earlier, they often had trouble doing what had come so naturally before. 

Nanny herself had a hard time waking up in the morning- if she bothered to sleep the night before at all-but always looked put together by the time Warlock knocked on her door to tell her he was awake. She would help him get dressed if he needed but he normally did not anymore, and then walk with him downstairs for breakfast. 

After breakfast, Nanny always took Warlock for a turn about the garden. Warlock would freely run around and speak to Francis, while Nanny admired the work she and the gardener had managed to do there. She missed her plants at home, as she only got to see them for a short time whenever they were due for a misting now. 

As long as the weather allowed, the two would stay in the garden for as long as they could. Nanny would read to Warlock as they sat together on the bench under the cherry blossom tree. She read him books of sports, dinosaurs, dark fairytales, poetry, and Harry Potter. Francis would add a book to the stack that spun scenarios of kindness, chiveray, and bravery. Nanny read them as well, pretending Francis had snuck them in when she was not looking. 

On Wednesdays, the two would go together and take Warlock to places in the city. Sometimes to parks or arcades. Nanny would tell him to lead, to take charge and give no mercy. Francis would preach of kindness. Warlock always knew what he wanted and was smart enough to get it from the other kids, though he helped a little girl when she tripped and fell. 

They would do lunch, play with toys both inside and in the garden, dinner, bath, and bed for six days of the week. Nanny had Saturdays off, as Harriet had grown accustomed and seemed to really enjoy spending some alone time with her son. She was not a terrible mother. For some reason, it was important to Nanny that Warlock and other people knew that, maybe because of her earlier feelings about the woman. His father was always off who knows where with the President or too busy when he was home and despite all the help she got around the estate, Harriet was still her own woman with her goals and dreams. She was not just a wife and mother who stood faithfully by her husband’s side when needed but a career woman who owned her own business. 

When Nanny had first arrived, she had been so overwhelmed and lost that it seemed she had no interest in the boy at all. After some time it became apparent that the poor woman was simply burned out and in need of more purpose than the title of wife and mother. She was often busy now but tried to carve out little pockets of time for him every day and always, always made sure to be available to him all day on Saturdays. On those days Nanny would leave the estate to spend some time with her plants, check on the bookshop for Aziraphale without saying a word about it, and then come back to the estate and hide the rest of the day in Francis’ moderately sized cottage to sleep the afternoon away in the cozy couch in the common area. 

After Francis had done enough work for the day, he would come inside and hang his potato sack of a coat on the hook by the door. By the time he turned, he was Aziraphale again with his normal face and clothes. Crowley would be herself again as well, though still femme, just without the Nanny getup.

They would discuss Warlock as much as needed, which was not at all besides the occasional comment. They spoke more of his development as a young man than the antichrist. They would drink and play chess and even stayed quietly in each other’s company as Aziraphale read and Crowley watched reruns of Golden Girls. 

They had been in love for so long and now had the ability to bask in each other’s company. It was almost everything they wanted. It was enough. 

They never spoke again of the horrific things the guards and male staff wanted to do to Nanny. If she noticed - and she did - that every time she caught them leering Francis would snap his fingers and suddenly the cook would drop hot soup on their laps or a door would open so perfectly it would knock them on their ass, she never said a word and neither did he. He promised her he would take care of it and he did, punishing them for their impure thoughts as severely as he could without drawing attention. 

Sometimes, just because Francis could at that moment, he’d purposely step in the way of their unwanted advances. He couldn’t help but feel jealous of the way the other men felt they could so openly express their desires when they were obviously unrequited when he himself had been hiding how deeply he loved Nanny, no matter her form, for decades. 

The guard was making his way over to Nanny now, though slowly. The young man always made it look natural, looking around the place for possible threats every so often but always coming to stand a little closer to her. Nanny encouraged Warlock to do something else in a different room but the young man was insistent on watching Daniel Tiger in the common room. 

The sliding door to the back garden opened just as it appeared the young guard would reach out for her. Nanny turned her head and smiled at Brother Francis, who made his way in slowly and a bit clumsily, carrying a bouquet of coral colored roses. 

“Hello, Antonia.” He took his hat off, holding it to his chest. He waited for her to acknowledge him. He did so wish to give her the flowers but only if she allowed. 

“Francis,” she smiled back softly, standing from her spot on the couch, “those are beautiful.” 

He smiled in return, moving forward until he stood in front of her. Warlock watched them with interest, as did the guard, who’d moved away as soon as Francis had come in. “I saw them and instantly thought of you.” 

She took them gingerly in her hands. “Thank you,” she said softly, and because it was appropriate in the moment, because she could, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, her lips lingering there perhaps a second too long. 

Francis resisted the shudder but could do nothing for the blush. “Would you like to join me for dinner on Saturday?” 

They had dinner together every Saturday but the guard did not know that. 

Trying not to appear too eager, but very interested, she pressed the roses to her chest lightly and nodded. “Sounds lovely.” 

The guard walked off, huffing, but they did not notice. 

That night, Nanny had tucked Warlock into bed, sang him a lullaby of death and pain, and hugged him close when he asked. It was not until she was ready to retire to her own room for the night that the young antichrist noticed that he had forgotten his most beloved Teddy Scare Teddy Bear Nanny had given him on the couch. 

“I can’t seep without it, Nanny!” He yelled, sitting up in bed with pleading eyes. In a quiet voice, he said, “I need him to help me take over the world.” 

Nanny was powerless to resist. “You lay down master Warlock, I will get your teddy and bring him to you.” 

“Thank you, Nanny!” 

“No need to thank me, my dear.” 

She slipped out the door quietly and walked as silently as she could down the stairs. Warlock’s father had gotten home from a trip that day and both he and Harriet had retired early to spend some private time together. 

It was not until she was holding the teddy in her hands that she sensed it but then, it was far too late. The guard had shoved her over the back of the couch before she could even turn around, one hand shoving her down by her hair and the other digging into her hip. Being a demon, even in this vessel, Nanny had the strength to lay the man out on his back. Even without it, she had her powers but she was bound by Hell to not intervene. She was told to fight just enough to put up a fight but, as Hastur had put it, to let it happen and enjoy. 

She could scream but did not want Warlock to come running down. She could not stop it from happening without Hell knowing but she would not let Warlock see if she could help it. The man behind her snickered, grabbing a handful of her backside. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“Let go, please.” It was the role she was supposed to play but the role she felt as well. She squeezed her eyes shut. She did not want this, not with him. “Please.” 

“That’s right,” he purred in her ear, “beg.” 

Footsteps made their way down the stairs. Nanny hoped for anyone but Warlock. She turned her head, cursing whomever when she saw the young boy standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking confused. “Nanny?” 

“Go back to bed, master Warlock. I will be up with teddy soon.” Warlock ran, but not upstairs. He rushed out the side down and into the garden, disappearing from her sight in the darkness. She closed her eyes and tried to call his name but the guard yanked at her hair, eliciting a cry from her instead. 

His hand slowly made its way up her leg, his fingers digging into the pencil skirt and pulling it up as he went. He ran his hand over her arse again, her undergarments being the only layer between the skin now. She struggled against him, used the heel of her boot to stomp down on his foot. He yanked her hair harder. 

Suddenly she became very freighted. She wasn’t sure what she would report to Hastur later but as he slowly lowered his hand towards her womanhood, she knew she could not let this happen. He drew his hand away and Nanny could hear the unbuckling of his belt. She panicked. She struggled and managed to shove and push him back. He grabbed her again and shoved her back down the back of the couch, sneering in her ear. “If you don’t start acting a little more ladylike that kid you’re oh so fond of might just have a little accident.” 

She stilled, closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. His hand made it's way back up her skirt, fingers digging into the tights to pull them down. 

And then suddenly, he was gone. 

Nanny’s hands pressed into the back of the couch, her body remaining where it was. She was in too much shock and in too much fear to move. A gentle hand on her arm, the softest voice in her ear. “Crowley…?” 

She flung into his arms, tried to hide the tears that were coming down her face. “Angel…” 

“What in  _ GOD’s _ name is going on down here?” 

They both turned to see Thaddeus and Harriet running down the stairs. Nanny tried to rub her tears away. She thought they were about to be caught embracing in their common room with Warlock up past his bedtime and a missing guard having been miracled away. 

“He tried to touch her NO NO SPOT, “Warlock screamed at the top of his lungs, “So I went and got BROTHER FRANCIS!” 

That was when Nanny realized Francis hadn’t miracled the guard away. The man was lying unconscious on the floor, his pants undone. Nanny looked up at Francis, shocked, but only got a small shrug in response. When Warlock had gotten him, he fully intended to miracle the man away and put Warlock to sleep with a spell to dream whatever he liked best but the moment he saw the guard touching her, he saw red and used his fist instead. 

It was an hour before everything had settled down. The police came and took statements while paramedics checked out the guard outside, who’d woken up soon after the police arrived. He was carted off without any of them knowing. Warlock fell asleep on the couch and had to be carried up to bed by his father. 

Everyone eventually filled out of the room, leaving only Nanny and Francis behind. She had her hands wrapped around a cup that had been drained of its tea more than a half-hour before. Francis pulled it gently from her hands and set it down on the coffee table. At the same time, he pulled her gently from the couch and started to lead her to the side door. 

“Where are we going, angel?” 

“Oh, my dear girl,” Aziraphale responded, his disguise suddenly gone. “You should not be alone. Not tonight, come. 

He pulled down the sheets for her in the bed in his cottage and sat down in a chair on the other side of the room. 

“You still don’t sleep, hm?” 

He shook his head no, picking up the book he’d left there. “No, but I will stay here with you. You must be exhausted.” 

She was too tired to argue. She didn’t even want to. She miracled pajamas and laid down in the bed. He must lay in it to read, she realized, because it smelled like him. She fell asleep.

…

Hell was not pleased when Nanny reported the failed attempt in her monthly paperwork. Luckily, they were unaware of Aziraphale’s presence as Brother Francis. She left out the detail that Warlock had seen anything at all and instead stated Francis had stumbled upon them before anything could happen. 

Hastur was still optimistic that one of the other men might try and she had just shrugged her shoulders in response to hide her shudder. Even before, Nanny was unsure if she could have gone through with it. Now she knew for certain she could not. If any of the others tried, she’d have a lot of paperwork explaining how she’d accidentally miracled them into an active volcano. 

Beelzebub and the others were not the only ones upset regarding the incident. As soon as the morning sun had peaked over the horizon, Nanny had noticed a change within the lady and the man of the house. Thaddeus, for all his brute behavior, was appalled. He just didn’t seem to know how to express it. He was only back in town for a short time and had made it even shorter, volunteering to go back as soon as possible, though not without having each and every guard and employee screened and questioned to ensure his family’s safety. 

Harriet was most upset over the issue. Nanny’s demonic vibes messed with the poor woman’s head. She found herself standing in front of the mirror, checking her body and face for imperfections. She simply did not understand how the guard had gone for their Nanny when she was around. The thought process was absolutely absurd and it caused her to be quite rude to Nanny but there was nothing to be done. 

“It’s the demonic hormones working her,” Nanny had reassured Francis while they spoke on the bench and watched Warlock in the park. “As soon as I’m gone, she’ll feel ashamed of it all.” 

“And you think you’ll be gone sooner rather than later?” 

Nanny nodded after a moment. Her eyes had already been turned on Warlock but as soon as Francis had said it, it was almost as if the young master was a homing beacon. She could not turn away even if she wanted to. “Harriet has been talking about getting Warlock his tutors earlier than originally expected to give him a head start now that all this has happened.” 

Francis stared at her for a long moment, then turned his eyes towards the guard off to the side. He was paying them no mind. As far as he knew, that particular guard had never given her any trouble. “...are the others...bothering you?” He had been keeping an eye out, of course, but he wanted to make sure. 

Nanny shook her head no, tried to give him a small smile and failed. The truth was that they had not been bothering her at all. Sometimes she may see one of them looking in her direction but the leering and crude talk had stopped completely. If they whispered about anything, they whispered about her and Francis and the torrid affair they now believed to be happening. She was thankful for the peace but it hurt to have the others talk about their forbidden love like it was a soap opera when she’d been waiting for as long as she had. 

“Is something the matter, my dear?” 

Nanny pressed her lips into a thin line. “No, but I was thinking…Oh, nevermind.”

Francis turned to her as he reached out and took her hand. She stiffened at the contact but he did not let go. “My darling, you can tell me anything.” 

This wasn’t true. Despite the many years between seeing one another, the years they’ve known each other left little unknown between them. They talked freely with one another now and had for some time except, of course, the one known truth between them. They’d had an unspoken agreement to never say it, the one thing that truly mattered. 

Without looking at him, she squeezed his hand and said, “They believe...the staff believes that we’re a couple...and I was thinking…”

Her hand felt cold when he let go. The rejection stung worse than she imagined the holy water would. 

“Are you...are you suggesting…?” 

No,” she replied, her voice low, “of course not, angel.” 

_ You go too fast for me, Crowley… _

They both kept a watchful eye on Warlock but did not speak for the rest of the outing. 

…

Francis cursed - as much as he allowed - to himself as he tried to prune to roses by hand. He had gotten pretty good at it over the last two years of doing it but today he couldn’t focus on anything other than the look on Nanny’s face that day in the park. She had reached for him and he had pulled away. 

It had been over forty years since that night in the Bentley and over sixty now since he realized that deep warmth within him whenever Crowley was around was love. It was a lifetime; there were humans who were not lucky enough to live that long and yet after all the years they’d been on Earth he was still a fearful coward hiding behind his faith to stop himself from being with the one he loved. He had never felt so old. Never more ashamed. 

She was avoiding him now, and who was to blame her? He had shattered her heart as he had done time and time again. He felt like a monster, much like he had originally thought a demon would feel every second of every day before he met Crowley on top of the wall of Eden. He felt like he needed more time, always more time. First it was more time to adjust, to come to terms with the act of treason his heart had committed without him even realizing it. Now he was just buying time until this could all be over. 

He wasn’t sure what he would do, truly, if their plan didn’t work. What would they do if Warlock came into his powers and started the final great war between their two sides? Would he betray God to stay at Crowley’s side? The answer struck him so harshly he lost his breath and cut his hand on the shears. 

He stood for just a moment to slow the bleeding of the cut there. Suddenly his turmoil turned to dust. It was as if the stars aligned above his head at the same time Hell froze over beneath his feet. What was he doing waiting when Crowley was his answer no matter how the situation played out? 

Francis put his tools away and wandered over to the patio door to check the flowerbeds there. They looked beautiful, as always. He thought they must secretly be Nanny’s favorite as she took extra time with them each and every day. From his spot, he could see Nanny and Warlock at the kitchen table and muffled voices coming from a closed door across the common room. 

“You are being absolutely ridiculous,” Thaddeus gritted through his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet. Francis knew his latest trip had been cut short by a bit of food poisoning that left the President stuck in the bathroom. He had canceled everything he didn’t absolutely need to do for the rest of the month and sent all unnecessary people home. “I can’t believe you’re upset that the guard didn’t try to... I literally cannot finish that sentence.” 

“It’s not about that,” his wife insisted. “He never even looked at me, though, and yet tried to shove her straight over the couch! How does that happen? I’m far more beautiful, aren’t I?” 

Thaddeus did not immediately answer. A moment passed and a loud crash came from the other side of the door. Nanny tapped on the kitchen table, regaining both Warlock and his attention to the task in front of them. She miracled the door soundproof as well with a flick of her wrist so they would no longer be disturbed. The young master sighed down at the paper in front of him, still struggling to hold the pencil in his hand correctly. 

“Nanny, I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

“I know, my darling,” she soothed him, “but your tutors will be here soon and you need to know these things.” 

Harriet had told Nanny just the other day that her services would no longer be needed in just a few weeks time. She’d acted sad and sympathetic about it but Nanny could tell she was brimming with glee over it. Thaddeus had only found out she had called the tutors in six months earlier than they had agreed that morning, hence the start of the fight. 

Warlock looked thoughtful. “Are you leaving me cause you and Francis broke up? You’ve been avoiding him.” 

“What?” 

Warlock repeated himself. 

Nanny shook her head, and Francis could see the corners of her eyes prickling with tears. “No, master Warlock. I am not leaving you because Francis and I had a fight. We were never together to begin with but I promise you, I would never leave you unless I had to.” 

Francis knew Hell was sending a new agent for his tutor, despite the fact that she had volunteered to stay on with a different disguise. She honestly couldn’t imagine leaving Warlock now but there was nothing she could do. She cursed the guard who’d attacked her and hoped his stay in Hell was as unpleasant as Hitler’s. If not for him, she would have another half a year with the antichrist. 

“Don’t you love him, Nanny?” 

Nanny choked out a small laugh, pet Warlock’s hair gently. “Yes, darling. I do.” There was no point in denying it. She didn’t want to deny it. Not anymore. “But my leaving has nothing to do with that. You are growing every day and you just don’t need me as you did.” 

“Is Brother Francis leaving with you?” 

“I’m not sure, why?” 

Warlock set his pencil down, tears streaming down his face. “I’m gonna issssss you guys.” 

Nanny gathered the young master in her arms and pulled him up until he sat in her lap. She petted his hair again and sang sweet songs in his ear until he fell asleep in her arms. She carried him up to bed for a late nap, unaware that Francis had been watching from the back patio door .

Later that same night, Nanny went for a walk throughout the garden after Warlock had gone to bed. His parents had not only ignored each other all day after their fight but ignored her as well and by extension, Warlock. The poor dear was struggling and Nanny was concerned that her own hurt feelings would tip the scales in Hell’s favor and would need to do what she could to repair any damage there. 

She was just under Warlock’s window to admire the flowers in his pot he’d managed to keep alive with help from Francis. It had been over a year now and felt a little sting of hope in her human heart. It was short lived as a second later she felt the presence of her counterpart behind her. “Not now, angel.” 

There was silence from behind her. If not for the fact that she could sense him, she may have assumed he left. A second later he reached for her hesitantly, fingertips barely brushing the palm of her hand at her side. She shuddered and leaned into the touch without thought. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s soft voice reached her. When she turned, she saw he was, in fact, Aziraphale. “I’ve been thinking, and…” the more words that poured from his mouth, the closer he drew to her. He slipped his hand completely into hers and slowly made his way until they were face to face. 

Before he could say another word, recognition burned in Nanny’s eyes. She reached forward and brought their lips together. Hands placed gently around his face, she kissed him slowly and deeply until they were both out of breath. He opened his mouth to speak but she placed her finger there. “I know what you’re going to say and before you do, I need you to think about it tonight.” 

“Crowley…”

“No, angel,” she warned, now taking a step back. “I won’t be able to go back. Think about it.” 

She ran inside, leaving Aziraphale in the garden. 

…

Nanny had woken up the next morning on her own. She could hear Warlock moving around his own room, probably playing with his toys before breakfast. It was only more proof that he would no longer need her soon. He didn’t seek her out in the mornings anymore, never needed help eating or dressing, and now spent more time independently playing than asking her to join him. 

She laid in bed for a couple of minutes, staring at the ceiling and kicking herself for not allowing Aziraphale to say what he wanted. She was certain now in the morning light he would have more a level head and ask her to forget everything that had happened the night before. 

She changed into her clothes the human way, liking the way it felt to slowly do herself up until she was presentable. She looked out the window at the low light coming through the glass. It seemed to have rained the night before but the sun was shining through the remaining clouds. In all accounts it looked like it would be a lovely day. The type of day Aziraphale loved to keep the shop closed and sit on his couch and read one of his favorites. 

It was then she noticed the clear part of her window. While the rest of it was covered in the rain’s misty remains, there was a small portion of it clean, as if someone was drawing pictures with their finger. At a closer inspection, she saw it was an arrow, pointing her attention down. 

Her vessel did not technically need to breathe. This was a fact she was grateful for when a gasp caught in her throat left her several moments unable to take a breath. Francis was directly below her window working away in the garden. It was as if he sensed her presence as he looked up at her beaming, his hand immediately coming up in a cheery wave. 

He was planting an apple tree. 

…

Nanny spent the whole day fretting over the angel and the tree that she felt she may discorporate at any given second throughout the day. Warlock seemed happy today, something for which she was grateful. They played all day in his room. She had to force herself to be present for him and not drift off to often thinking of the angel. 

In an attempt to make things right between them all, Harriet had gotten tickets to a show for the family. Warlock asked if she would come, still a little young to understand, and so Nanny had let him down easy staying she had a headache and would retire to her room for the night. 

The moment they were out the door, guards in tow, Nanny raced out the back door and into the garden. Francis had worked for several hours that day but now was back in his cottage. She stopped to admire the tree for a moment. It was still young, a baby even. But with the right care it would grown large and proud with many shiny red apples to eat. 

Nanny wondered if Francis would be leaving with her. 

She forced the thought from her mind along with her nerves and pushed forward until she reached the cottage door. Sighing, she knocked on the door and tried to look aloof and domineering when the door opened. 

Any remittance of a plan slipped from her mind when Aziraphale - and it was Aziraphale - opened the door. He looked like himself, the way she loved so much. He was wearing a soft looking cardigan instead of his usual jacket and no waistcoat. 

“Crowley…” he said, not so much with surprise but with happy wonder that she was there. He stepped away from the door automatically to let her in. She entered without hesitation but did not sit down on the couch like she normally would. “I’m very pleased you’re here.” 

“An apple tree,” she demanded but with no real heat behind it. “Why would you plant one of those?” 

Aziraphale came forward and grabbed her hands, brought them to his lips to kiss them. “They are...the start of us. You tempted Eve into the original sin and I, even then, to you. I wanted you to know that I have thought of this. I want this, I want you Crowley, please.” 

“I’ll be leaving here soon, angel, you know that.” 

“And I will go with you. I’ll send another agent. We’ll see Warlock from afar, like we used to.” 

“I mean,” Crowley sneered, annoyed that she had to explain any further. “We’ll be back to our old lives soon. We’ll have to go back to the way it was before-.”

Aziraphale did not seem put off by her attitude. Quite the opposite, actually. He reveled in it. Her passion only proved her feelings in his eyes. He pressed his lips to her skin again but did not kiss the flesh there. His breath ghosted over her hands as he spoke. “Yes, you’re probably right. Reports to file, agents to send...but the world cannot end, Crowley, without me having told you how I feel. The world cannot end. And if...when all this business is over and we stop the apocalypse from coming, perhaps we could...be together.” 

Crowley remained silent, looking in the angel’s eyes and looking for...She wasn’t sure. Laughter at her expense, fear, regret, doubt...None of it was there. There was nothing hidden in his pupils, just the pure angelic love that Aziraphale always seemed to radiate and now, it was completely directed at her. 

Aziraphale let go of one of her hands but she did not move. He brought his hand up to her face, moved a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and then cupped her cheek. “You can go faster now, Crowley. I’m ready.” 

She hadn’t known it until he said it, but it was all she was apparently waiting for. Crowley pressed forward until her lips fell onto Aziraphale’s. Their hand and cheek kisses always left her breathless and wanting but was nothing compared to having his lips pressed against her own. Her heart ached like her chest had been ripped open and flooded with holy water. She growled into his throat, pulled back to yank his cardigan off. “It’s been  _ sixty years _ Aziraphale.” 

The blond allowed his cardigan to hit the ground, didn’t protest when slim fingers started to undo his shirt. “I know, darling, I’m sorry.” It had been almost half a century now since he’d spoken those words to the redhead that had stopped their relationship almost completely. Now she was now shoving his shirt off at the same time she tried to undo his belt. “Ah, the bedroom is quite lovely, why don’t we go there?” 

Crowley stopped then to look back in Aziraphale’s eyes. The shorter of the two felt a bright flush take over his entire face, suddenly self-conscious. Crowley had just been taking off his clothes, surely, this was what she intended? Or was he now going too fast for her? Had she thought to just do it there on the couch? 

Another beat and Aziraphale thought he could discorporate from embarrassment when Crowley took his hand firmly in her own. “Lead the way, angel.” 

It was not as if she had not been to his bedroom before in the cottage but it was important for her to have him take the lead. Aziraphale seemed to understand this and lead the demon back to the bed he never used for more than reading through the night. 

He spun her around, much to her surprise, when they reached the bed. He thumbed at the black buttons on her jacket until the garment fell open and off her shoulders. Underneath she wore a simple black long-sleeved blouse that he made quick work of and left somewhere on the floor. Next he moved his hands to the back of her skirt, felt the round mound there and slowly pulled the zipper down as he flitted kisses over the expanse of her neck. 

Soon she laid bare in nothing but her matching lace black bra and thigh-high garter tights. She was more than happy to let him take the lead, if only for a moment. That way she would not worry later she pressured him into something he did not want. Aziraphale laid her back gently on the bed, her head cradled by the soft pillow. He let his hands run from her arms over the slope of her breasts, fingers gently brushing the flat surface of her stomach, and then tenderly spread open the long slim legs to the delicate grace there. 

Crowley fisted her hands in the pristine sheets under her, watched the blond with growing suspense. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then brought two fingers down to touch her through the panties and feeling the warm wetness already pooling there. A soft gasp filtered through his lips and it was then Crowley realized that this,  _ her _ , might not have been exactly what he was expecting to find there. 

“Oh, uh…” Crowley tried to think of the words to say, but Aziraphale was slowly stroking her sex with his two fingers as he watched her, waiting. “I forgot to, uh, ask. I can make a different effort, if you want.” 

The angel shook his head, allowed his fingers to push past the thin fabric and just barely graze his fingertips there. Crowley gasped and bucked her hips, seeking more. 

“Have you, ever, uh...with a, erm?” 

She wasn’t making much sense but her partner understood right away. A deep blush took over his whole face and he shook his head no. “No, I’m afraid I’m a little out of my area here but I don’t want you to change. I like you as you are.” 

“I assume you still know the process?” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he nodded, quite happily, and rubbed her clint again almost absentmindedly. 

“Ngk.” Crowley wasn’t sure if he knew the effect he was having on her or not. He was just enough of a bastard to be able to keep his face perfectly neutral. “Okay, good, uh, just so you know, this effort is sometimes harder to...get a reaction out of, so I’ve been told, anyway.”

Aziraphale seemed to sit on that statement for a moment, then nodded his head in understanding. He pulled his fingers away, much to Crowley’s chagrin, and hooked them at the top of her panties. “May I?” 

A nod was all the permission he needed to drag the dark material away and with it, the tights. He settled between her legs and with the unwavering curiosity he always seemed to possess, licked her fully without hesitation. Crowley had to resist the urge to tighten her legs around his head and instead dug her nails deeper into the sheets. Gentle hands came to lay against her inner thighs, keeping her legs open as Aziraphale explored and experimented on her inner workings. 

Crowley moaned and withered as the blond’s tongue alternated between dipping inside her folds and sucking right at the clitoris. He tongued at the sensitive nub, paying close attention to Crowley and her reactions. Eventually, he settled on something else entirely. He’d done it simply to try and the reaction out of Crowley had him do it again and again. 

The redhead was unsure what it was  _ exactly _ Aziraphale was doing between her legs but she didn’t care. Not only did it feel good but she could feel a pressure building inside her, slow but sure, and she was almost certain what would come of it if he continued. His face stayed almost completely out of view but if Crowley arched her head to look, it appeared as if Aziraphale was truly  _ eating  _ her. 

His jaw opened and closed as if he was biting and there was the slightest bit of teeth at the top of her cunt. His tongue pressed lightly inside her folds with each movement, teasing her, before the tongue came up to lap at her clitoris. It reminded her a little of a dog drinking water but if Aziraphale dared to stop she would kill him. 

She pressed her heels deeper into the bed and arched up in pleasure, all but screaming when she came right to the edge. She stayed there for several moments, almost there but not quite. Her body became more aware of how empty she felt with every tease of his tongue between her folds. “Aziraphale, please,” she begged, bringing her hands to his hair. “Use your finger, please, please.” 

The angel slipped one finger inside her, then a second. He cocked them in his direction and rubbed against her inner walls. In seconds she was cumming. A warm ripple of pleasure flooded her entire body. It made her toes curl and her hands tighten in his hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes, yes, that. That.” 

Aziraphale continued to lap at her through it. The wave eventually slowed down but was replaced with something much more urgent and focused. Her body almost felt as if it was in pain, her skin felt hot and tense but she did not want it to stop. She could feel her pleasure almost moving, lower and lower until she realized too late that it was coming out of her. 

“Aziraphale!”

She pushed at his shoulder but Aziraphale remained on her sex, drinking in the liquid that flowed from her. Crowley blushed, threw an arm over her face and moaned. Her entire body felt limp now. 

“Oh, my darling,” the blond said softly, “you taste absolutely delectable. Would you mind terribly if I tried to make you do that again?” 

Crowley could only shake her head, stunned as the angel lowered himself between her legs again. He stopped to inhale her scent and kiss the twitching flesh before taking her back into his mouth and sucking at the nub harshly. She thrashed her head against the pillow and whined, panting. He dipped his fingers back inside her and continued his early pursuit. Still sensitive from before, it only took a minute for her to squirt again. 

Aziraphale licked his lips, sighing softly at the taste. He wiped his face with the back of his hand to clean it and crawled his way up until he was hovering over Crowley’s heaving body. “Are you alright, my dear?” 

His voice made her whole body quiver. She nodded her head, not trusting her voice. She placed her hands on his shoulders and used her body weight to flip them over. She had so badly wanted to suck him off and have him scream her name but now she couldn’t wait to have him inside her. This would have to do. 

She could miracle his clothes off but he had undressed her so well and she desperately needed to have her hands on him. She forced herself to be calm as she took his belt in her shaking hands and removed it. She flung it somewhere in the room before palming him through his slacks. Her name fell from his lips like a prayer and she couldn’t wait anymore. 

With a snap of her fingers, he laid bare under her. Her plans changed once again at the sight of him. His cock stood at attention, flushed pink and arching for her to touch it. It was not incredibly long, but it was thick, much like her love before her. Her own sex screamed at her but she ignored her own desire to lick up and down his thigh before taking his prick completely in her mouth. 

There was no teasing, no experimenting. She swallowed him down fully, hallowed her cheeks and sucked until he was shaking under her touch. His hand came up to grab and tug at her hair but he stopped almost instantly and dropped his hand back to the bed, unsure of himself. Chuckling as much as she could in her current position, she reached down and directed his hand back into the red locks. Even now, he was so unaware of just how much she belonged to him. How she would do absolutely anything for him as long as he asked. 

Soon his tugging turned into a warning and Crowley pulled off, although reluctantly. She mouthed up his skin until she reached his lips, kissed him deeply as she crawled back on top of him to straddle his thighs. “Alright there, angel?” 

“More than, my darling. How are you?” 

Crowley wrapped her hand around Aziraphale’s pulsing cock and positioned him right at her opening. “Perfect,” she mumbled as she slowly lowered herself down until he was settled completely inside her. 

Aziraphale’s hands wrapped securely around her waist. He rubbed sweet circles into the skin as he admired the view. She paused for several moments, just enjoying the feel of him inside her. The angel was more than happy to wait. 

Crowley’s emotions began to run away from her. She wondered how much they could get away with, how much time they had before they had to hide again. How much longer it would be before they could just  _ be  _ together and not have to worry about their superiors. It might not ever happen, no matter how badly they both wanted it. She felt the tears spring to her eyes and pushed them back before Aziraphale could see. Finally, she began to move, rocking her hips slowly at first and then with a punishing pace she knew she couldn’t keep up for very long. She wanted to have him, possess him in a way that no one else possibly could. Make him hers forever. Even if this was it, she wanted both of them to remember it forever.

In all his time on Earth, the blond had never sworn before. He had never felt the need and had always worried about the possible consequences. Now he had to bite his lip to stop the words crowded at the tip of his tongue. “Oh, my...Crowley. Oh, my Crowley!” He chanted her name like blasphemy between his breathy moans. His left hand remained tight on her hip while his other came and dipped between them so he could rub and pinch at her pleasure center. 

Her head rolled back as she screamed when another orgasm spread through her body. Aziraphale grabbed her breasts in both hands, pressed his heels into the bed and slammed up into her quickly and harshly as her sex clenched around him. Crowley dug her fingernails in his thighs and let him abuse her pussy without complaint. 

When he finally came and stilled inside her, she fell forward until her face snuggled into the crook of his neck. She did not need to breath but did so rapidly, emotions causing her body to tremble in Aziraphale’s arms. He wrapped them gently and yet so securely around her, his lips caressed her cheek briefly. 

They laid there for several moments. Crowley stared at the bedsheets beneath them and listened to Aziraphale’s even breathing. The panic rose inside her once more, and gathering the courage, she raised her head to look at his face. 

“Angel, I -“ 

She stopped as soon as she started, unsure how to process when both relief and sorrow wrapped around her heart simultaneously. 

“Good night, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were closed, the softest of smiles played at his lips. He mumbled something that Crowley didn’t quite hear and then, for the very first time, fell asleep. 

…

Warlock wepted. 

Crowley could not even begin to describe the feeling of heartbreak inside of her. The only other time she felt this way was when Aziraphale had left her sitting alone in the Bentley after giving her the holy water. 

That moment felt different now. Not better; not worse. Just different. 

She did not have the time to think of it now. Not as Warlock was curled in her lap while she sat on the gravel of the driveway, crying hysterically into her shirt. Standing next to her was Francis, who was bent over just slightly so Warlock could clutch his hand from where he sat. 

Thaddeus looked upset as well, though the man always did when Warlock truly struggled in front of him. His wife on the other hand only looked annoyed. She had tried- and failed to pull the young master from the demon’s lap. Warlock only held on harder. 

“The tutors will be here this evening,” Crowley whispered in his ear as she stroked her hair. “You be good to them. You remember everything Francis and I taught you.” 

Warlock only nodded. Francis came to kneel beside them, uncaring of his clothes in the dirt, and wiped his tears away. “You are a remarkable young man, my dear.” 

“And no matter what…” Crowley trailed off, casting her eyes to Francis for the briefest of moments. That was all it took to see the love, fear, and sorrow she was certain her own face mirrored. “...remember that Francis and I love you very much. We’ll be around.” 

Warlock nodded once again and then allowed Nanny to pick him up and hand him back to his adoptive mother. Desperately, she wanted to kiss his forehead but dared not to in case someone from headquarters was watching. They said their final goodbyes and then watched the family walk back into their home. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, then behind her at the cabbie who by some miracle was waiting patiently for them to finish. Aziraphale’s driver was much the same. 

“I will miss this,” the angel said at last, breaking the silence. 

“Yes, yes, me too,” she replied casually, but did not bother to hide her tears. 

“I got something for you, my dear...I hope you don’t mind.” 

She watched, more than a bit confused as Aziraphale reached into his bag and pulled out a package. She took it gingerly in her hands and began to unwrap it, hands shaking ever so slightly. 

“I don’t know if you recall the museum we went to but…” the sentence trailed off into a blush. Crowley gently ran his finger down the statue, the material cool against her fingers. She eyed the figures carefully where their bodies pressed together, where evil overpowered good. “I know you collect things from our...well, that you collect things.” 

She did not have the time to be embarrassed that he knew. She had so many words to say. 

_ I love you.  _

_ I adore you.  _

_ Please don’t ever leave.  _

_ I want you.  _

_ Let’s run away together.  _

She said none of them. It was not the time. 

Instead, she reached into her own bag and pulled out a single red apple, plucked just that morning from the apple tree he planted. The angel understood the moment he laid eyes on it, and smiled sadly as he took it gently in his hands. 

This is where one of them suggests lunch. Alcohol. A late night of venting to one another, debating of things that no longer matter, and reminiscing about old times. This time, they both turn and get into their respective cabs. The drivers back out of the driveway and turn to drive down opposite directions in the street. 

Crowley does not look to see if Aziraphale watches after her. She cannot bear to look up at all. 

The END

**Author's Note:**

> I had really wanted to have this story up in September, I think, and then of course life got away from me. I have more ideas for my babies here and I hope to write one of them soon! Please feel free to tell me what you think!


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